New Rites
by idearlylovealaugh
Summary: When Auror missions take a toll on Ron and Hermione, a memory from their past helps them find the way forward. Mature.


It was a drained Ron Weasley that Apparated into his apartment on a Friday night, dropped his rucksack heavily, and leaned back against the door with an explosive sigh. Overnight missions had always been rough on him, and he knew from a few probing questions to targeted parties - namely Ginny and Hermione's office assistant - that Hermione didn't fare particularly well during his stints away, either. It had become a bit of a routine: he'd tell her about the upcoming mission, she'd take on some new project to stay busy, and then he'd come home, mentally and physically exhausted, to a stressed-out, overworked Hermione. It always took them a few days to recover and get back into the swing of things, and he hated that she didn't take care of herself while he was gone. Gods, it was wearing him down, all of it.

"Hermione?"

"In here," came the muffled reply from further into the flat. Ron tossed his cloak on the back of the sofa and made his way to the short corridor that led to their bedroom, rotating his stiff neck as he went. No injuries this weekend, thank Merlin - just the soreness of sleeping a few nights on the hard ground, dreaming longingly of his comfortable bed and the person with whom he shared it.

Their bedroom was dark, but a light was shining under the next door down. He hesitated, wondering if she might not want to be disturbed; but figuring that she had left the door ajar for a reason, he pushed it open to find his wife leaning back against the counter of their bathroom wearing a silky dressing gown tied loosely around her hips and a small, self-satisfied smile.

...Only it wasn't their tiny, somewhat shabby loo, with it's chipped tiles and inexplicably pink fixtures - this room was considerably larger and sleeker and somehow strangely reminiscent of something. The generous countertop looked to be polished stone and their cramped, claustrophobic tub and shower had been replaced by an luxurious oversized stall with a glass door. The shock of the change ripped Ron's eyes away from the deep V of exposed skin on Hermione's sternum.

"How…?"

Hermione's smile widened a bit. "Just some advanced transfiguration," she replied airily. "Well, I had to borrow a little space as well. You know her from next door is in Blackpool for the weekend - she asked me to feed her cat," she continued, when it looked as though Ron was going to interrupt with a question. "And I can obviously put it to right before she gets back, so she'll never miss this little bit of kitchen."

Ron grinned as he leaned against the doorframe, feeling the tension of the last few days start to physically dissipate. "And all that about 'excessive use of magic in a muggle neighbourhood'...?" he asked teasingly.

She raised an eyebrow and shifted slightly, causing the gap in her dressing gown to plunge nearly to her belly button. "Are you really going to quibble about that now?"

"Hell, no," he breathed, quickly covering the space between them and kissing her deeply, threading his fingers through her hair as he gripped the back of her head. His other hand skimmed the silky length of her torso, revelling in the familiarity of her curves as she arched into him. He palmed her arse through the smooth fabric of her dressing gown, hand sliding slower to grip behind her thigh and hoist her off her feet. He deposited her on the gleaming countertop where she was at the perfect level for his hungry mouth. She leaned back on her hands and tipped her head back with a sigh as his lips moved down her neck, her nipples making noticeable peaks under the peach satin.

Slowly Ron pulled her sash loose and pushed open the sides, blowing out a slow breath as her fully nude form was revealed, reclined and open to him. He leaned in to kiss her again, slowly and reverently, as his hands slid down her torso. He followed the path of his fingers with his mouth, tracing and suckling each rounded breast as she moaned her satisfaction. That this woman that he loved so much, wanted so much, could do something like this for him, could instinctively know what he wanted and needed, and even needed herself...

Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, he paused with his head between her breasts, breathing in her scent. He could feel their connection in the beat of her heart, in the waves of love and desire soaking her skin.

"This is amazing, thank you," he murmured, pushing back slightly to look into her eyes. "You know the best part of these missions is always coming back to you, no matter the state of the flat."

"I know," she whispered. "It's hard on both of us." She cradled his face in her hands, scratching her fingertips through his rough stubble. "The last time we were here, I was so overwhelmed and you helped me so much - I wanted to give some of that back to you."

Finally it clicked, why the room seemed so familiar - as far as he could remember, Hermione had transfigured it to look exactly like the bathroom in the hotel room where they had stayed in Sydney. Well, technically it had been _her _hotel room, which had become _their _de facto hotel room while they worked to bring her parents back to England. They had only spent a few nights there, but those moments - early in their relationship, exploring and learning each other - were treasured memories for him.

Overflowing with emotion, he surged forward to kiss her again, glorying in the way she responded to his touch. After a few moments she pushed against his chest gently until he took a step back. She leapt lightly off the counter, letting the dressing gown slide off her shoulders into a shimmery pool at her feet.

"Let's turn on the water," she suggested, sending him a flirty smile over her shoulder as she turned to the shower stall and reached for the gleaming knob.

Ron drank in the view of her perfect arse until he could no longer resist pressing himself against her. "Just so you know, this isn't going to be _exactly _like Australia," he growled into her ear, and was rewarded when he heard her breath hitch.

Hermione stepped into the shower and turned, offering her hand to him with lust-darkened eyes. He took her hand and entered the warm spray, gently backing her up until she was leaning against the tiled wall as his hands roamed her water-slick body. Before she could protest he dropped to his knees in front of her, gripping her hips and pulling them to him so that he could bury his face between her legs. He had a feeling that she intended to take care of him tonight, but this… this was what he wanted, what he spent nearly every night away from her thinking about. Her scent, her taste, the way he could feel her body quiver and shudder - all of it made him fairly ache with desire for her.

She cried out in ecstasy as his tongue worked her over, the water mixing with her flavour as she rocked against him. He coaxed one thigh over his shoulder to give him more access and the chance to look up at her as she writhed and keened. She was gorgeous; the water soaking her massive curls and streaming down her body as she neared her peak. His calloused fingertips pressed into the flesh of her arse as he held her in place, swirling his tongue around her sensitive clit. Slowly, torturously, he slid two long fingers into her wet heat as she practically sobbed with pleasure. He curled his fingers inside her and gently rubbed as he continued to stroke her with his tongue and she broke, the orgasm wracking her body as she pulsed around his fingers.

He supported her weight with his body, gently tracing the skin of her thighs until she was recovered enough to stand on her own. He stood and she launched herself against him, plunging her tongue into his mouth and pinning his rock hard length between their bodies. He broke the kiss with a groan, dipping his head until his lips brushed her ear.

"Turn around," he growled.

Hermione complied with a moan, turning to face the warm spray. Once again Ron gripped her hips and drew them to his own, rubbing himself between the cheeks of her arse as he licked and nipped the skin of her neck. He slid his hands down her arms, gently pulling her wrists forward until she bent at the waist with her palms flat against the shower wall. He ran his hands back along her front, fingertips playing with her hardened nipples as she writhed and moaned.

"S'fucking hot," he slurred, sliding his cock between her legs to rub against her, not yet entering.

"Ronnnn," Hermione whimpered as she pushed her hips back against him, seeking the connection they both desperately needed.

When he knew neither of them could stand it any longer he plunged into her, their cries of relief mingling in the steam-thickened air. He stood tall as he used his hands to guide her hips, muscles tensing at the indescribable sensation of being inside her, of hearing her chant his name as he pumped into her, seeing and feeling every inch of himself disappear into her wanting body.

His climax was building fast and he could tell by the way she rocked back into him that she was close as well. He reached down between her legs with long fingers to rub her even as he thrust deeper. As soon as she began to wail and shake he let go, her name echoing off the porcelain tile as he roared his release.

Circling his arms around her waist, Ron stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall and slid down, laughing as he carefully collapsed them into a tangle of slippery limbs. In a haze of satisfaction he looked down at her smiling, upturned face, water droplets sparkling in her eyelashes.

"A new tradition?" she asked, beatific.

He pressed a fervent kiss to her forehead, closing his eyes as love and contentment washed over him.

"Definitely."


End file.
